


stood tall and painted blue

by wetsocks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, just cuteness i guess, lets hope thats a thing cool, liams not even in this i'm SOSOSOSOSO sorry, next time promise, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:28:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetsocks/pseuds/wetsocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis’ about to add to that with the extent of his colorful vocabulary, he really is, but the person’s looked up and it turns out the Warm Somebody has really deep, mossy, green eyes framed by dark brown lashes and a great, great face; he’s got a chiseled jaw that could cut through steel.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>au. louis meets harry in a laundry building. there might be a wet laundry fight in there somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stood tall and painted blue

**Author's Note:**

> so helloo! this is my first ever work and the first thing i've ever completed on my own :o it's just a really fluffy ficlet. thanks to olivia dimpledlouis for beta-ing :)  
> enjoy!!

Louis really fucking hates doing laundry.

Sure, he loves the clean, flowery smell of sheets washed in knock-off detergents, but he hates doing the actual washing and waiting.

And transfer to the dryer.

 It was Zayn’s idea to alternate laundry duty by months, and to rent a flat with a whole separate laundry building. Which requires copious amounts of walking, and there’s only so much fitness one can develop screaming about the incompetency of the judges on X Factor. But.

Louis somehow manages to do the abso— _fucking—_ lutely grueling walk to the building every other month. He’s got his and Zayn’s neon-green basket filled with dirty clothes this time, and May sunshine on his back. Just as Louis’ about to turn the chipping metal doorknob a person catapults out the door. He and the Warm Somebody plummet to the ground and Louis lands on his bum with a less than graceful bounce. The person must have some inches on Louis because he feels like he’s lost his legs.

“Jesus  _Christ_!”

Louis’ about to add to that with the extent of his colorful vocabulary, he really is, but the person’s looked up and it turns out the Warm Somebody has really deep, mossy, green eyes framed by dark brown lashes and a great, great face; he’s got a chiseled jaw that could cut through steel. Warm Somebody bites his bubblegum lips sheepishly and stumbles over large booted feet to help Louis up.

“God, I’m  _so_ sorry, I was in a bit of a rush, I’ve got work in an 45 minutes and I only had one more pair of clean jeans left and literally no shirts, I’m  _so_  sorry,” Warm rambles.

 Louis is absolutely  _not_  endeared, and ignores the way the guy is standing with large hands behind his back, pigeon toed. He also ignores the fact that his voice sounds the way chocolate tastes.

A pause.

“I’m Harry by the way,” Warm adds. Or apparently Warm Harry.

“M’ Louis.”

He makes to go gather up his and Zayn’s ball-sweaty boxer briefs, and Warm Harry’s cheeks dust a really pretty shade of pink. He brushes Louis’ hands away and bends over to collects both sets of laundry. Louis tries his best not to notice how tight Harry’s solid black jeans are, and the fact that he’s only wearing a white tank top. He smells like vanilla.

Louis is so weak.

“I’m still really sorry, Louis,” Harry murmurs. He nervously swipes a hand through his shock of chestnut waves as he hands Louis his laundry.

“It’s fine, mate, thanks,” Louis says, reaching for his basket. He brushes long, feathery brown hair out of his eyes and finally,  _finally_  walks into the stuffy little laundry building. If he sways his hips a little walking to the door, it’s fine. No one has to know.

*

“I really don’t think you understand, Zayn. The guy was wearing a headscarf!”

Louis flops down on the sofa. Their flat smells like tomato sauce. As soon as he’d walked through the door he had let Zayn know that everything was his fault. As per usual, Zayn looked way less bothered than he should have.

“So?” He calls from the kitchen.

Louis jerks upright, scandalized. “ _Zayn_. No one wears headscarves.” He goes to feel Zayn’s forehead.

“Y’ alright, man?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and starts breaking up the spaghetti. Louis needs to find a way to kick Zayn out of the flat.

“Seems quirky. Your type,” Zayn walks out of the kitchen wielding a wooden spoon and a small smile.

“If it makes you feel any better, Niall thinks so too.”

Louis plops down onto one of the chairs at the table. “He is not!”

“He is.”

“He is  _not_!”

Niall walks into their flat, drumstick in hand, grinning. “He is.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Niall!”

Louis stomps off to his tiny room. He hates his friends.

As he’s going, he bumps into the laundry basket. Louis leans over to pick up their boxer shorts for the second time that day, but a tiny slip of paper catches his eye.

**_Hiiiii, it’s Harry. I’m still really sorry._ **

**_-H. x_ **

There’s a number scribbled on the back. If Louis folds it up and carefully puts it in his wallet, no one has to know.

That evening, Louis might text Harry just to reassure him that he really  _genuinely_ wasn’t holding anything against him. There might be some puns and overuse of the banana emoji. And, well, after it’s all done, Louis might go to sleep with a smile on his face, and it might be because of someone with curly hair.

*

The first time Harry asks him out, it’s the start of July. Louis feels like his balls are melting. He doesn’t remember London summers ever being this hot but whenever he mentions it, he gets a “shut up you say that every fucking year” from Niall. Whatever. Everything is shimmering with heat, and he can literally feel the warmth of the sidewalk through his tattered Vans.

He groans as he turns the knob to the laundry building. Louis still really fucking hates doing laundry.

He really shouldn’t be surprised to see Harry and his halo of curls there too, but there’s a lot Louis doesn’t know about himself these days. He and Harry have been texting for the past month and a half, and meeting up in the same old stuffy laundry room by ‘coincidence’ every Saturday. (Louis may or may not have taken full laundering responsibilities. It’s fine.) Louis also shouldn’t feel his tummy fluttering when Harry lights up when he walks in. The guy doesn’t even try to school his face into something less… _bright_. It’s nice.

“Hiiiiiiiiiii,” Harry hasn’t stopped grinning at him yet, and Louis’ taken to smiling at him lately. He thinks it’s kind of cool when Harry smiles. “Would you like some fruit?”

Harry honest-to-god pulls out a banana and a crate of strawberries, large green doe eyes staring hopefully into Louis’ blue ones. They stare at each other for a bit, but the spell’s broken when Harry starts biting his lips red. Louis coughs.

“Nah, mate, I’m good.” He makes to turn toward the washing machines, but Harry’s frowning.

“Are you sure?” He steps forward. “The berries are fresh from the farmers’ market.”

 Louis wonders where Harry found a farmers’ market in London, but opts for nodding his head and bends over to sort the clothes.

He’s glad he wore the shorts because Harry’s eyes are decidedly lower than they were before Louis turned. He can’t help but laugh at Harry’s red face.

“S’ alright, Curly,” He grins and pats his bum. “It’s an arse worth staring at.”

Harry nods with rosy cheeks, but a second later looks like he regrets it. It’s cute. The both of them finally start washing their clothes like they came to do, with Harry taking occasional bites of fruit; Louis  _swears_  he hears some obscure indie band playing from Harry’s ear buds. He tosses a wet t-shirt at him, and Harry looks so  _genuinely_  offended.

“Heeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

Louis gets ready to ask him what he’s listening to, but never gets the chance because curly-haired, rosy cheeked, pink lipped Harry has flung a pair of  _soaking_  socks at his face.

It’s  _so_  on.

He throws three damp t-shirts in quick succession and then  _two_  pairs of socks, just because. If Louis’ anything, he’s a winner.

“ _Dick_!” Harry yells, lobbing three solid black skinny jeans at him.

Louis is absolutely appalled. “You started it!”

“You threw your t-shirt at  _me_!”

“And who’s fault was that Harry!?”

“Oh my, God.”

It goes like that for a while; wet articles of clothing flying back and forth, way too many giggles, very dignified squeals, and lots of different words for ‘dick’.

Louis decides that Harry looks very pretty when he’s overwhelmed, skin flushed pink, dimples poking his cheeks in like craters, chestnut curls just barely held back by a huge, obnoxiously wide hat.

He’s lovely.

When the two of them finally calm down and get their wet laundry into the dryers, they wait together.

“So, Harold, I’d been trying to ask you, before you so viciously attacked me, what you were listening to on that device of yours.” Louis says, gesturing to Harry’s cracked iPod. He has shit all of an idea how Harry can get around without ending up in the hospital every week.

Harry’s face lifts. “It’s “We’re Wild Animals” by Weaver at the Loom.” He takes his ear buds out and offers one to Louis.

As expected, Louis’ never heard of the band. He says as much.

“Never heard of them.”

When he puts in the buds, he’s greeted with a really mellow, gentle voice. The whole song is really soft and soothing, stays that way throughout; it’s not bad. Louis might’ve even enjoyed it, but he enjoys Harry’s excited face even more.

“What did you think?” Harry asks, with a blinding smile.

“Not bad, dear Harold.” A ghost of a smile flits across Louis’ face. “Brilliant music taste.”

Harry gives him an indecipherable look that makes Louis shift uneasily after a while.

“Would you like to—“Harry starts, but a tall brown-skinned woman with thick curls approaches them.

“Sorry, but if you two are done with the dryers could I use one?” She asks.

Harry scrambles to his feet. “’Course! Sorry.”

The woman smiles and glances between the two of them. “You and your boyfriend are cute, I don’t mind.”

The look on Harry’s face would be funny if Louis could breathe. Before they can get a word in, the woman has left to get her laundry sorted.

Harry worries his bottom lip for what feels like an eternity, and finally takes a breath. “Would you like to go out with me?”

Somehow, Louis is able to answer with a, “Harold! I’m glad that you’re a man after my own heart, but we’re going to have to do this when we’re not in a laundry room.”

Instead of falling, Harry’s face lifts, and Louis has never seen anyone look so determined in his life.

There’s a first time for everything.

*

As soon as Louis gets home, he has a bit of a meltdown.

“Niall, he asked me out.” Louis groans.

Niall grins around the mouth of his beer bottle. “Weyhey! Congrats, Lou!”

Niall joins him on the opposite end of the couch and gets in five sips before he asks. “What’s the matter?”

Louis throws a sun kissed arm over his eyes. “He was wearing a really large hat, and his eyes looked pretty.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “Tommo.”

“He has very bearable music taste.”

“Tommo.”

“He eats so much fruit, Niall! I bet his come tastes—“

“Tommo!”

Niall’s face is hysterical, but Louis has no room in himself to laugh.

“This guy seems weird as fuck. Exactly your type! Go for it!” Niall waves his bottle up in the air, and runs a hand thorough his sandy hair. “It sounds like he likes ya, from what Zayn’s told me.”

“Traitor.” Louis mutters through a blush.

Niall holds up his hands. “He only told me that he can hear your Face Time conversations. Apparently there’s been little to no phone sex.”

Louis glares. “Don’t you have your own flat?” He snatches the bottle out of Niall’s hands and takes a huge gulp.

Niall only laughs. “Oh, cheer up Lou! Your boy’s gonna ask ya out again, all ya have to do is say yes.” He leans over to ruffle Louis’ hair. “It’ll be fine.”

Louis loves Niall sometimes. He gives him a smile, and opens his arms for a cuddle.

He can feel Niall grinning into his hair. “There we go,” Then:

“You can get off me now, though. There are no friends in Fifa.”

Louis grins and grabs a controller.

He lied. He loves Niall all the time.

*

The second time Harry asks Louis out, it’s the first time Louis asks Harry out.

Louis’ making a late night run to Tesco; Zayn had told him to wait till the morning but they were out of cereal.

No one deserves to live like that.

He scans the aisle for Fruit Loops and some Pop Tarts. When he gets to the milk isle, it’s fucking freezing but that’s not what makes his body go rigid.

Harry’s slow, deep voice is talking about the wonders of fresh fruit to a little boy. Louis can’t even pay attention to what he’s saying because he’s a sight to behold; green eyes sparkling, full lips stretching wide over straight white teeth. He talks so animatedly and little boy seems enraptured. The boy’s mum stands a little ways away with a smile that matches Louis’ own.

He hears Niall and Zayn in his head and the numerous pep talks they’ve given him and immediately turns around to leave.

Louis is so weak and it’s all Harry’s fault.

He’s about to turn out of sight, when he hears  _that_   _voice_  again.

“Lou?”

“Yeah, yeah, hey mate!” Louis yelps.

“D’you need help with anything?” Harry adjusts his nametag with clumsy fingers. “It just so happens that I work here.”

Louis can’t help it; he laughs. The guy looks so excited for someone who’s working a night shift at Tesco.

“Nah, just came for me Fruit Loops. And Poptarts. And milk.” Smooth.

Harry only smiles softly at him. He wants to hide in the milk freezer. Or bite Harry. Or his lips.

It’s too much, way too much Harry and cereal and breakfast food so Louis just  _goes_  for it.

“Since we’re both here, and I think you’re kinda beautiful and lovely, we should go out. On a date.”

Harry keeps smiling softly at him. “Louis,” He lowers his voice like he’s got a secret. “This is so crazy, but, I also think you’re rather lovely, we aren’t in a laundry room, and I think we should go out on a date, too.”

Louis lets out a breath he never knew he was holding. How cliché.

They set a time, but Harry tells Louis that the location is a surprise. Usually, Louis would try to weasel that kind of thing out of someone, but,  _man_  Harry’s cute. And Louis’ weak.

It’s still Harry’s fault.

*

Louis’ going on a date.

Tonight. With Harry. Who’s really lovely and quirky and beautiful.

He doesn’t know what to wear and he’s not nervous at all. All he knows about the date is he should “dress casual”.

“Fuck,” He mutters. “Zayn.  Zayn.   _Zayn_.”

A rumpled looking Zayn wanders into his room. “What do you want.”

Louis frowns at his tiny closet. “I don’t know what to wear.”

“Black jeggings. White tank. Black and white vans,” Zayn runs a hand through his stubble and turns to leave. “It’ll be fine, Lou. He seems like he likes you. Besides, Niall and I are finally meeting him. If he’s an arsehole, well. I know at least 95 different places to hide a body.”

When he’s gone, Louis finds that he feels a bit better. Sometimes he really digs that psychic shit Zayn does.

When Louis’ dressed with long hair swooped to the side, he tries really hard to relax because it’ll be fine. Before he can get too wrapped in his thoughts though, Niall barrels into the flat all sandy hair and big voice (neither Louis nor Zayn knows how he gets in, he doesn’t even have a key).

“Louis! When’s your boy due?”

“He’s not my boy,” Louis replies petulantly.

The both of them flop onto the couch to wait, and after a minute or so, Zayn joins them looking like god. Louis frowns. Nice.

 Then there’s a knock that has Louis very nearly jumping into Niall’s lap. He’s  _alright_.

No one moves for a minute.

“Oh for God’s  _sake_ , Louis, get the door.” Zayn whisper-shouts.

Louis takes a breath, makes his way to the door, and pulls it open slowly.

He’s wearing his tight black jeans, as usual, and a blue plaid button up, sleeves rolled up. His obnoxious hat has made an appearance, and Louis gets a glimpse of two swallow tattoos where his shirt isn’t buttoned all the way. He’s soft brown curls, sparkling mossy eyes, long, ringed fingers, and smiling pink lips.

Harry’s lovely and he can’t breathe.

“You look.  _Really_ good.” Louis breathes.

Harry blushes. “So do you. You look amazing.”

They smile at each other and stay staring for a while, but either Zayn or Niall clears their throat incredibly loudly.

“You two are so cute,” Niall says. “I’m Niall.”

“And I’m Zayn,” Zayn chimes in. He and Niall both have real suspicious-like grins on their faces.

They give Harry the whole “if you hurt him we’ll cut your balls off” speech, and by the time they’re done, Louis’ face is flushed so red he feels light-headed.

Harry just looks terrified and a little offended.

 As they make their way out of the flat, Zayn catches the back of Louis’ shirt.

“Seems like a sweet lad,” He smiles fondly. “Have a good time, babe.”

Niall offers a thumbs up and a grin.

And, alright, that’s a good sign.

*

Harry had insisted on a blindfold, which, alright.

“You’re gonna have to wait till the third date, H.” He’d smiled cheekily.

Instead of blushing like Louis had expected him to do, Harry had simply smirked and rolled his eyes.

“It’s for the surprise, you shit.” He held the pitch-black fabric out toward Louis. “Turn.”

Louis turned, and that had been that.

 Harry guides him to his rusty car and into the passenger seat. Louis kind of wishes the blindfold was off so he could watch Harry fold his giraffe limbs into his tiny car.

“Alright?”

Louis turns toward Harry’s voice, and nods.

The drive takes about 20 or 30 minutes. Louis’ got no sense of time with the blindfold on; he just goes by the different songs playing on the radio and Harry’s voice, rough like sandpaper.

Harry barely gets out a “we’re here” before Louis rips his blindfold off.

They’re at a park, and it’s lovely. There are picnic tables, and fields of flowers, and a clear blue lake in front of it all. It’s clear that the two of them are alone, because who the fuck comes to a park at 9 in the evening? The most beautiful thing about the park is that it’s so  _quiet_. They must be a ways out of the city; the park feels like a breath of fresh air.  ~~Heh.~~

Louis turns. “It’s so beautiful.”

Harry’s holding a basket, and it’s so obvious that he’s blushing, even under the cover of the night. His smile seems to illuminate the dark.

“Glad you like it.”

Harry leads him to one of the tables and begins unpacking the basket. In the moonlight, his features are highlighted with pale shadows. His jaw really is fucking amazing. Harry’s packed some lanterns, as well as a shitload of fruit, some mint-chocolate chip ice-cream, and pizza.

Louis’  _so_  gonna marry him.

“Oh my, _God_ ,” Louis moans around his bite of pizza. Harry looks a little flustered, so naturally Louis moans again. “Styles, you’re probably my favorite.”

“Not so bad yourself.” Harry replies with a smirk.

“Thanks.”

All the fucker does is wink and take a bite of mango.

The date is really good, if Louis’ being honest. The two just enjoy each other’s company; bathe in it. There’s feeding of pizza, which leads to tomato sauce on Louis’ bottom lip, which leads to Harry’s thumb swiping it away like his whole body’s submerged in water.

It’s all comfortable and beautiful and memorable. It’s really funny how Louis seems to fit  _just right_  snuggled into Harry’s side.

Funny enough that Louis swears his breath stops for an entire minute.

*

Two hours later, Harry’s walking Louis to the door of his building because of course he would.

“So,” Harry starts.

Louis rolls his eyes. “None of that,” He crooks a finger towards Harry. “C’mere.”

Their first kiss is perfect because it’s not.

Their teeth clash because they’re smiling way too hard to kiss properly and Louis misses about a third of Harry’s mouth.

Their second kiss is all soft lips, sweet, and closed-mouthed.

Their third kiss is bitten lips, open-mouths, and fingers tangled in curly hair. It’s fireworks and radiant smiles afterward.

And  _that_  is when Louis decides to keep him.

**Author's Note:**

> my [ tumblr](http://emo4jungkook.tumblr.com) !


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